Fat ass Mycroft
by Moo moo
Summary: Mycroft has fell off the diet wagon . . . .again. We all knew it was coming. Mycroft is morbidly obese and has been hiding a dirty little secret . . . until now. ONESHOT!


Hello everyone, this is my first every fan fiction! I know that it's a strange fanfic story line, but we love kooky! Just enjoy it! The idea came to me when I woke up in the morning, just a random thought in my mind. Please read and review. I hope you all enjoy it . . .

Warnings: Obesity (don't know if that's something I should warn you about). Pornographic references. One swear word (yep, just one, well unless you count 'bloody', then that would make two).

I do not own BBC Sherlock (wish I did, but I don't), or BBM(s)

Fat ass Mycroft:

Mycroft's excited eyes stared at the plump, tanned leg, which was an only inch away from his sweaty face. A bead of moisture was slowly building up enough liquid to drop. After a few seconds it gently rolled down the bridge of Mycroft's chunky nose, leaving a salty trail as it went. He slowly reached out to stroke the delicate flesh with his stubby finger tips, brushing them up and down repeatedly over the warm skin until he couldn't take it anymore . . . .

'Oh baby' he moaned excitedly, 'How can you be so beautiful, I've been waiting to meet you, I've also been watching you on those adverts everyday . . . . . . And now, I FINALLY have you ALL to MYSELF!'

He gave a throaty rumble of pleasure. 'Baby' he repeated hungrily, his frantic, hyper eyes rolling round and round, but his gaze still somehow fixed on the goddess leg in front of him as he spoke.

'COME TO DADDY!' He screamed dominantly. He bared his flawless whitened set of teeth, which were coated in a stream of saliva. Mycroft's tongue traced his venired teeth, and then sat on its haunches ready to pounce in the back of Mycroft's eager mouth. Mycroft's eyes closed, he inhaled deeply and swung his head forward as he sunk his teeth into the crispy flesh. A burst of steam errupted from the soft white meat as his sharp canines pierced the skin. Mycroft's tongue flicked around his mouth, savouring the taste of fried chicken. He grunted appreciatively.

'Oh, colonel' he drooled 'What is your secret recipe! How do you make the chicken taste so MAGNIFICENT!' He fumbled around desperately in the KFC bargain bucket for a packet of BBQ sauce to accompany his fried beauty.

Anthea –Mycroft's personal assistant- knocked lightly on the office door, wondering why Mr. Holmes was taking so long to respond.

After 2 minutes of contemplating she twisted the golden handle of the boss's office –she immediately wished she hadn't. Anthea entered his office, her worried gaze brushing over the disturbing scene in front of her. She really didn't know how to interrupt this . . . . . . . . . Scene .How was she supposed to interrupt Mr. Holmes while he was obviously in absolute ecstasy?

After 4 minutes of twiddling her anxious thumbs, listening to Mr. Holmes groans of pleasure, she really was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Mycroft was now looking seductively at a chocolate éclair , running his fingers through the cream, then slowly curling his eager tongue around his index finger to suck the cream off. He was still totally unaware of the poor, scarred for life Anthea floating in the background.

'Yummy yum yum!' Mycroft groaned 'You know baby, you can drink my cream ANYTIME, ANYPLACE' Mycroft whispered disturbingly at the chocolate éclair.

'Come on Anthea, do it now' She said silently in her head 'let's get this over with so I can go home and cry these horrible thoughts away . . . . .' she continued silently. She took a deep breath.

'Ermmmm, Mr. Holmes . . . . . . .' she said loudly, looking at her feet and still twiddling her thumbs. Mycroft's head flung around to gaze at this nervous woman, finally registering her presence in the room.

'AHEM' He coughed loudly, immediately trying to hide the éclair in his trouser pocket - creating even more mess. 'uhhhh, good afternoon Anthea' he squeaked. 'Please knock next time . . . . . .' He grunted embarrassingly.

'Sir, i did knock, for 2 minutes in fact.' Stated Anthea, still looking at her feet.

'Oh' grumbled Mycroft. 'Well, what do you require?'

'Well Mr. Homes, there is a Dr. Watson here to see you.' She informed speedily, as if she couldn't wait to leave.

'WHAT!' He roared. 'WHY IS HE HERE?'

'Sir, he's here for your weekly health check-up, it is a Wednesday sir, he comes every Wednesday at 2pm, remember sir' she informed hastily.

'Oh, yes indeed it is . . . .. Well don't keep the man waiting Anthea, send him in!' scowled Mycroft. He pulled his white handkerchief out of his breast pocket and then wiped the cream off his face, then placed it on his desk before adding 'ANTHEA?'

'Yes Mr. Mycroft sir?' she paused

'Please could you order me another 18 piece bargain bucket . . . .? With extra fries and coleslaw, with a 2 litre bottle of coke.' he rushed breathlessly.

'Yes, of course sir.' She turned to walk away to let in.

'Anthea?' She turned back with a knowing, yet polite look on her face. 'Can you also get me a large tub of Rolo ice-cream, 2 fudge brownies, a caramel cookie and . . . . . .' he blushed '. . . and, ermmm some red velvet cake?' Anthea laughed hysterically inside her head. Trying desperately not to break her poker face with a big grin.

'Of course sir' she said with a small grin on her face.

'Thank you Anthea' John said professionally.

'John, just to give you a heads up . . . . . he hasn't been sticking to his healthy eating plan. I caught him before . . . . errrmmm . . . .' she looked down, as if trying to honour Mycroft's privacy. But she knew it was best to tell john.

'Yes Anthea?' john inquired

'Well, before I heard him . . . talking to his chocolate éclair like he wanted to. . . . .Sleep with it.' She blushed scarlet

'WHAT?' spat John

'Well, I take it that it's not normal behaviour then . . . .?' squeaked Anthea.

'Sexual advances towards cream treats, No definitely not normal, but then we are talking about Mycroft Holmes aren't we!' said john trying to lighten the mood.

Anthea wasn't amused at all; it was if john hadn't said anything at all. 'Well, I think you should be going to see Mr. Holmes now. But I must warn you john, he has . . . Changed since you saw him last week, he's gained' she puffed out her cheeks to explain her point 'if you know what I mean.'

'Oh, yes' He looked worried now. He waved bye to Anthea, thanking her for the heads up and hurried at double his normal walking pace down the polished hallway towards the great Mr. Mycroft Holmes office. When he neared the office he slowed down to adjust his shirt, by pulling it down, then raising his hand to check his top button was done up. He extended his arm towards the golden handle, and then out down his doctor's briefcase to knock with his now free hand.

Tap . . . .

Tap . . . .

Tap . . . .

'Enter' a deep voice thundered from behind the expensive oak door. John's knuckles strained, turning white as he twisted the handle. He gently pushed the door – which squeaked a little- open with his hand. He was completely unprepared for what he saw next. . . . .

The great Mycroft homes overflowing in his king size, double strength chair, yet it still wavered under his colossal weight. Surrounding him were crushed boxes and packets of any junk food you could imagine, all carelessly thrown along the floor, and on his huge desk. Some were even wedged under his gigantic jelly arse. Mycroft's £1000 designer suit was smothered in cake, cream- and some other unidentified substances. The room stunk of stale Mycroft farts, and- john sniffed twice- ewww- a hint of urine and faeces! .GOD. what the hell had Mycroft Holmes become.

'Hello John' said Mycroft politely, his chins rippled with every syllable said.

'H-hello M-Mycroft' stuttered John, the sound of Mycroft's voice bringing him back to reality.

(Chins still rippling) 'So, what can I do for you today? Inquired the elder Holmes sibling, eyebrows raised, trying to study the frozen doctor. John just couldn't stop staring at those 5 distinguished chins- continuously doing the Mexican wave, every time Mycroft breathed or spoke.

'Errrmmm, I'm here for your weekly check-up' said john slowly picking up his doctors bag and placing in on a chair that was conveniently place by the door. He shut the door, and then opened the clasp on his doctor's bag, producing a stethoscope, a blood pressure monitor and a chunky silver scale. 'Right- I think we should start with weighing you.' He exhaled deeply, flabbergasted by the increase in Mycroft's size. He placed the scales a few feet away from Mycroft. 'Please could you step on them for a moment' he gestured towards the scales trying to be as professional as possible.

Mycroft tried desperately to get up. His specially requested XXXXXXXXXL suit straining against the tight fit as Mycroft scratched at the desk, still trying to pry himself out of the oak chair. Eventually he managed to escape from the clutches of the chair. John noticed that after Mycroft got up, he had left a deeply engraved butt groove in the chair- that he doubted would ever smooth out. As Mycroft stepped forward, the office floor actually groaned in protest as a morbidly obese Mycroft Holmes waddled over the solid floor –'thank god' thought john, he didn't want the floor to collapse under the fat Mycroft now- towards to scales. He stepped on them, it read . . . .

John peered at the reading. 'FUCKING HELL MYCROFT!' john shouted. 'HOW can you be 500lbs? You were 408lbs last week!' John was so confused, how on earth could Mycroft have gained 92lbs in a week? Impossible.

Mycroft blushed a deep red, and dug his head into his many chins, as if trying to engulf himself in them.

'Mycroft, you can't go on like this! Soon your body won't be able to handle it anymore!' strained John. 'Another two or more years like this and I can guarantee you will have a heart attack, or die of your sleep apnea! WHY MYCROFT!' John tutted, as if he was telling off a naughty child instead of talking to one of the most important people in Britain. He composed himself, knowing that shouting was not the answer. He exhaled deeply. 'Mycroft' he repeated, but calmer this time, 'you already know all the risks, so why do you carry on like this?'

Mycroft shifted his weight onto the other leg, and then dug his face dug itself out of the cave of fat. He was really going to have to say it wasn't he, after keeping his naughty little secret all this time, he was going to have to tell, of all people, Dr. John Watson. He had better just come out and say it, after all it was for the best . . . . . . Wasn't it?

'Well, to be completely honest' Mycroft started, then paused to make sure that John was listening.

'It's for my hobby' Mycroft finished shyly.

'What?' John gasped, not quite understanding on what he had just heard.

'I am a BBM' Mycroft smirked, and started to swing his arms like a little girl.

'What, you're a Blackberry messaging service . . . . . .?' John was ten times more confused now, he scratched his head, trying, and failing to make sense of those two sentences.

'Noooooo, john! , not that type of BBM!' Mycroft laughed 'The type I'm talking about means big beautiful men.' He stated obviously. 'I go on the BBM website, and people pay me to do sexy nude poses. My username on it is 'MycroftDominatrix012'. Miss Irene Adler got me interested in it, it is rather good fun, if i do say so myself. You should join too john, we could be BBM together! Ha Ha ha ha ha' Mycroft chuckled at johns flabbergasted expression.

John dropped the stethoscope in his hand, it clattered loudly against the floor.

Mycroft continued to speak. He wanted to get this finished with as soon as he could. 'I get a lot of attention on the website, people love me on it, I have a huge fan base' he said proudly

John, mouth wide open, eyes glazed over with shock, arms hanging limply by his sides- not even attempting to pick up the dropped stethoscope. 'S-So, s-so you're a . . . . .' John gulped 'a porn star?' John asked absent mindedly .It felt completely wrong saying that word in front of Mycroft Holmes. Very, very wrong indeed.

'I suppose that's one term for what I do.' Mycroft grinned cheekily 'After all, everyone knew that I could never stick to a diet, and with this I don't have to.' Mycroft stated proudly, walking back to sit his gigantic jelly arse in his deeply butt grooved chair –john noticed that it still hadn't moulded back to its normal cushion like state.

A thought just occurred to john. 'Mycroft, you do know that Moriarty could blackmail you with this!' john rushed worriedly. He said this not because he was worried about Mycroft, but because he was worried what Mycroft would say to Moriarty that could hurt Sherlock.

'Oh, i've already considered that, but no need to worry Johnny boy . . . . . .Moriarty is one of my huge fan base, in fact, you could call him my number one fan.' Smiled Mycroft 'He adores my bulge!'

John's eyes popped open, his mouth clamped shut suddenly without any warning, making john bite his tongue extremely hard. He started to pack all of his equipment away while saying . . . . . . 'I think it would be best if I leave . . . . . . '. He couldn't take in anymore of this. . Strange- if that's what you could call it- information. Before Mycroft could reply john swiftly picked up his fully packed case and power walked out of the room.

'JOHN, DON'T TELL SHERLOCK- HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND SEX!' Boomed Mycroft's annoyed voice after John.

'FINE!' Yelled John. What else was there to say?

Later that night when Sherlock had gone to bed – Which had been a nightmare to wait for as Sherlock was trying to deduce why john had come in white as a sheet- John went on BBM- Big beautiful men. He typed in 'MycroftDominatrix012' then clicked on one of the many photos. He clicked on the one labelled 'sexy Santa'. In the photo Mycroft was wearing a Santa hat- and nothing else. He was pouting, and leaning forward seductively, one hand on his knee while the other was holding a sprig of mistletoe above his head. Folds of fat were rolling form every location on his body- even his . . . . . . .' baubles and candy cane' john thought. 'Bloody hell' John muttered as he looked at Mycroft's fan base. Mycroft hadn't been wrong when he had said about his fan base! He had 6,472 fans! On the comment list below the photo were hundreds of rambles of how much they adore Mycroft- but the top comment was the one that caught john's eye. It was from someone called 'Moriarty the hero, Sherlock the zero 07' John rolled his eyes; Moriarty was so full of himself! Moriarty's comment read: 'Loving the pose M, next Christmas come to my hotel room and well have a blast together ;D you can even see my baubles if you want! Love Moriarty x x x' Johns mouth fell open. Mycroft could be a naughty little minx when he wanted to be!

The end


End file.
